2 Plus 2 Equals 5: An Anthology
by Daisy Miller
Summary: An anthology of oneshots, focusing on Hermione and Draco, that may or may not be related.
1. 2 Plus 2 Equals 5

**A/N:** Just an idea, typed rather quickly. If you catch any mistakes, please let me know! And don't forget to review!

**A/N (6/21/05): **Each chapter of this story will be "inspired" by a song, but WON'T include any of the actual lyrics. They'll be short; I'll warn you right now. And it'll probably e months before I update again, so just treat every chapter as a separate one-shot, seeing as how they're really not related (see summary). Each song will be credited, and** no copyright or trademark infringement is intended**.

**This chapter:** "2+25" by Radiohead

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**2 Plus 2 Equals 5**

None could remember how it had started. Both could remember that it didn't make sense, like two and two make five, or like how a new moon is not visible. If it's new, don't you think God or somebody would want to show it off? Isn't that what you do when get something new? Like a new shirt; you always want to show off a new shirt.

He wasn't a new shirt to her. She didn't want to show him off. He was the scar on her moral fiber, the garish mark of sexual desire that she did not want to be associated with. She didn't _do _things like that. She didn't kiss like she wanted to possess ownership of one's mouth. She didn't bite one's lower lip, catching it like a piece of fruit. She didn't lick one's abdomen, getting lower . . . and lower. She didn't press her body against one's body.

But she did to him. And that scared her, embarrassed her, that she could feel something for someone like him: A Slytherin. A Pureblood. A Malfoy.

She wasn't the only embarrassed party in their relationship.

Malfoy was disgusted with himself, after he awoke their first morning together. He didn't even remember how they got to be in such a position, but he did remember how her lips tasted his skin, how her breath felt against his groin, how her breasts felt against his chest, naked and sweaty. He licked his lips, and he could still taste her on his teeth, salty and sweet. His head had been pounding and her hair had been suffocating him.

Upon reflection, he was horrified to realize that it was not suffocation that had tightened his chest; it had been something more akin to contentment, and he had been presented with a lovely image of his body entangled with hers.

He quickly banished the thought from his mind . . . and then she walked into the room. Her hair had been in a loose bun, a few stray curls falling over her eyes. Her shirt was untucked, and a few of the top buttons had come undone. It was then he realized exactly how short the uniform skirts were. He also learned how easy it was to just lift them over a girl's head.

It was a secret both kept. The secret was easy to keep, for it was much easier to control sexual urges then. But urges multiply; they get more violent, more prominent. They evolve into addictions, and addictions either become loved or hated.

They had reached the addiction status not too long ago, but both were afraid to wonder whether it was loved or hated. Both were content to just not think. Thinking made things more complicated, and complication of their issue was a danger neither wanted to face.

The sun was bright, the moon was visible, the trees were swaying, and neither wanted to notice. Neither cared, nor did they feel the need to care.

It didn't make sense, but not everything is made to make sense. They were two plus two equals five, and that was fine.

_finis_


	2. Hello, Goodbye

**A/N: **Each chapter of this story will be "inspired" by a song, but WON'T include any of the actual lyrics. They'll be short; I'll warn you right now. And it'll probably be months before I update again, so just treat every chapter as a separate one-shot, seeing as how they're really not related (see summary). Each song will be credited, and** no copyright or trademark infringement is intended**.

This chapter: "Hello, Goodbye" by the Beatles.

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**Hello, Goodbye**

"You know Granger, if you spent as much time in front of a mirror as you do with your nose in a book you'd probably look less like a rabid cat."

Hermione looked up from her book. "And if you spent as much time on your studies as you do thinking up insults, you'd probably have a higher grade than me."

He scowled, leaning over her. "You filthy little-"

"What Malfoy?" she asked, her lips in a fake pout. "What am I, uh? Am I a Mudblood?" She stood up, the humor gone from her face. "Get a new insult. Goodbye," she said prissily, pushing past him.

"Hello," he called behind her.

She stopped and whirled around. "What?"

"I said hello."

"No–"

"Yes."

She furrowed her brows, wondering if he was playing some kind of joke. The look on his face was neutral, blank, showing no signs of emotion. Malfoy only had two faces: blank and angry.

He walked toward her, calmly, his hands in his pockets, and he smirked at her confused look. "Confused Mudblood?" he asked, his face close to hers.

"You're infuriating." Her tone of voice did not express her words.

"Thank you," he said, solemnly, his hand over his heart. "That's very kind of you to say."

At this, her brow furrowed deeper and she parted her lips in indignation. She opened her mouth to reply, but Draco spoke first.

"Oh, what's this?" He laughed lightly. "The Mudblood _actually _looks cute when she's mad."

Her cheeks were tinged pink, her lips were red, and her hair suddenly took on a wild look much more akin to fire (as opposed the I've-been-living-in-the-woods-for-ten-years-look). He was in a right mind to kiss her . . . . Actually, he was in the wrong mind, because his right mind never would have acted upon such an idea, which is what his body did a second later.

She pulled back, her back rigid and her eyes wide. Her hand flew to her lips, which were tingling.

Malfoy frowned. "Uh . . . That wasn't supposed to happen," he said, before walking out of their common room.

Malfoy is so infuriating, she thought, walking into her room. He'd say hello, just because I've said goodbye. He's . . . he's . . . he's a damn good kisser, she thought truthfully.

A damn good kisser . . . what was she thinking? _Malfoy_?

Ew.

_Finis._


	3. Always

_A/N: "Always" by Saliva; originally written for_ The Final Battle

Requirements:

_a Ship_

_Pretty much a love/hate relationship, but they hate each other so much they love each other_

_Post Hogwarts_

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"Don't be so blind . . ." She smiled, and his stomach lurched. 

"Blind to what Granger?" He smirked, but his smirk did not get the desired effect; she simply sighed.

"Malfoy . . . It's telling me all these things . . . It's not like you! I think maybe . . . ."

A frustrated look crossed her face, and he realized that his actions of late have been confusing her. And why wouldn't they? he thought. It's not like, in any part of their "relationship," he had ever shown a desire to confide in her. Malfoy didn't even confide in himself sometimes, preferring to leave forbidden thoughts lurking in the back of his mind as vague feelings.

There was one vague feeling, however, that intruded upon his consciousness: annoyance.

It was her hair, wild as fire that annoyed him. Her kind smile, like the spreading of an angel's wings, made him want to throw something. The nonchalant way she waved her wand,made his fingers itch for his own and his lips yearn for two words to flit across them: Avada Kedavra.

He knew what hate felt like; after all, Draco Malfoy was no stranger to it. Hate formed like a wall in front of him – in front of _her_ – and he found that his wall had slowly evolved into flesh and life, and disgusting brown eyes. The distinction between words and feelings and people had faded, and hate _became_ her.

Perhaps _he_ had been the hate to begin with, and now _she_ was _him_?Why else did he find her on his mind constantly? Why else did he look up every time she walked into The Leaky Cauldron? They were never there together; their meetings were designed by chance, and their conversations by alcohol (that he had consumed; she never drank enough to be reduced to quite utterings of her heart's desires, like he seemed to be).

"I think maybe I should find another pub to have meals at . . . ." She smiled softly, and he wanted to wipe the pity from her face; for her smile betrayed a hint of it, and he knew it was deserved. Draco Malfoy was a blubbering drunk.

"I feel . . . like you don't want me around . . . Granger," he slurred.

"I wonder why," she said harshly. "Malfoy, you need to switch your preferred beverage to something more like tea. These . . . conversations are not right Malfoy. You're . . . Malfoy!And I'm just a 'filthy little Mudblood' right?"

He sighed very un-Malfoy-like and lifted up his glass. "I hate you Granger, I really do. And I toast you . . . because I love you." He took a swig of his drink, grabbed his cloak, and walked out of the pub.

"Malfoy, wait!"

He stopped, not necessarily because she called after him, but because the street lights were much brighter than he had anticipated, and he found it difficult to see where he was going.

"Malfoy . . . You . . . love me?"

"I love you . . ." he repeated. "And I hate you. Now will you please move? I can't get around you . . ."

"No . . . Draco. I won't move. I demand an answer!"

"An answer to what? To why I love you? Or to why I hate you? Because I haven't got an answer for either of those questions. If you happen to find any, please feel free to tell me. And now that I've gotten myself into this predicament–"

"Love is not a predicament, Malfoy."Her arms were folded across her chest – not that he was looking at her chest or anything.

The alcohol that flowed through his veins had affected his brain, because he started rambling about his "feelings" again. "I breathe you . . . I taste you . . . I can't live without you . . . I just can't take anymore . . ." This last part was uttered in annoyance and frustration, as he ran his hands through his hair."Listen, Hermione, can we forget this . . . conversation?"

She looked like she was about to say "yes" for a second; but her countenance changedvery suddenly, and she said, "No. Because I love you too . . . And I hate you too!"

He stumbled; he hadn't been expecting that. "Wha–?"

Her smile returned to her face, a smile completely devoid of pity, and he grabbed her hand.

And then quickly dropped it.

"See you tomorrow then? Same time?"

"Sure Draco." His name was a foreign word upon her lips, but she felt that, with time, the syllables would roll off her tongue much more smoothly.

"Right then." He nodded in her direction and started off down the street, leaving her staring at his back.

"Right then," she repeated, and walked back into the pub.

_fin.  
_


End file.
